


Madness

by Doctor_Discord



Series: Trauma AU [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Blindness, Blood, Conditioning, Insanity, Kidnapping, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Murder, Prison, Prophetic Visions, Sort Of, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: The Host goes without being able to speak for far too long. The results are…not pretty.
Relationships: The Host/Dr. Iplier
Series: Trauma AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739428
Comments: 24
Kudos: 111





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> This based off of a _storm_ that took over my Tumblr a while back, it's an AU where the Actor won, and took most of the egos prisoner, but Wilford and Dr. Iplier slipped through his grasp.

Too long.

 _Far_ too long, too long kept muzzled, too long kept unable to _speak_. 

The Actor had realized quickly that the Host was _dangerous_. Perhaps moreso than Dark and Wilford. He’d had a Hell of a time trying to figure out where the Host’s power was _coming_ from. But once he realized it was in the Host’s words, the Actor had _grinned_ in a way the Host will never forget, and he was promptly muzzled. A thick leather muzzle, that folded under his chin with strong straps that buckled around the back of his head, over his ears, and the back of his neck. Forcing his jaw shut, pressing his lips tight together. His hands were kept in big mitten-type things that prevented him from undoing the straps himself. Though, his wrists bound tightly behind him helped with that as well.

And it was fine.

For a few hours.

And then the _build-up_ began to press at the Host’s skull.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t summon his aura, not in the cage layered in magic that kept it stifled. He had no way of getting his narrations _out_ , his visions _out of his head_. He _screamed_ and _writhed_ as the pressure grew worse, blood soaking into his bandages, legs kicking out wildly. But it did _nothing_ to ease the _agony_ in his skull. Too many words swimming in his head with no way to _escape_ , too many realities _swirling_ together. Realities shouldn’t _swirl_ , it was the Host’s job to keep them straight, keep them _organized_ , but there was _too many_ , too many to handle with no escape –

The Host had tried to bash his own skull in after the first day. Smashing his head into the bars of the cage, muffled, desperate cries escaping him. He could hear the screams of the others, kept prisoner in other cages around him like _animals_ , but he didn’t care. It _hurt_. He couldn’t _take_ it. Blood washed across the bottom of his cage, but _still_ he kept _bashing_ and _bashing_ and _bashing_ –

It was only when Eric – sweet, kind Eric, unfortunately having caught the Actor’s eye as such a _darling_ little pet to break – came to feed the people he once knew as family was the Host stopped. 

The Actor didn’t want his new _toys_ hurt in any way he didn’t inflict himself. A thick, padded helmet had been fitted over the Host’s skull after his wounds had been bandaged. It covered his ears, blocking all sound. The Host couldn’t _see_ , he couldn’t _speak_ , he couldn’t _hear_ – all he had was the swirling, churning, _storm_ inside his head.

The Host’s mind _shattered_ under the pressure after only a week.

He was kept like that – padded, muzzled, bound – for _months_.

The Host was lethargic. He didn’t to anything. The Actor had been forced to give him a constant IV for nutrient and a blood transfusion to keep him from bleeding to death from his eyes. The bottom of his cage was covered in an inch pool of blood, soaking into the Host’s skin and dirty clothes as he lay limp. Though…something _else_ crept into the blood, leaking from his eyes, as the months went on. 

Black. 

Swirling with his blood.

Forming…odd patterns that looked almost like words.

Almost like…

A vision crashed over the Host – the twentieth within the hour, too many _too many_ – and he convulsed like he was having a _seizure_ , blood splashing through the bars of his cage, spreading out in the ever-growing pool that Eric cleaned every day. 

_He Saw the room. The cages. The egos all sitting huddled in the corners, like beat, broken dogs. Some were angry. Some were beginning to break, lethargic, just like him. He could See his blood spreading across the cold tile._

_Two egos were missing. Had since the beginning. They’d somehow escaped the Actor’s grasp. Biding their time to take back the manor, break the others out. The Host watched Dr. Iplier creep into the room, and he lifted his head slightly, the first time he’d moved since trying to kill himself so many months ago._

_He watched the horror spread across Dr. Iplier’s face, watched Wilford creep around the room, picking the locks on the nearest cage – the Jims._

_“Host!”  
_

_Dr. Iplier rushed to his cage, footsteps splashing in the blood. He reached through the bars of the cage, pulling off the padded helmet, running his fingers through the Host’s hair. “Hey, hey, it’s me. I’m – so sorry, we left you for so long. But we’re gonna get you out, gonna get all of you –”_

_“Hey!”  
_

_Dr. Iplier and Wilford’s heads whipped to the doorway. Eric stood there, eyes wide as he scanned the attempted prison break. Wilford grinned. “Hey kid! It’s good to see you,_ God _, we’re so glad you’re okay!”_

_He took a step towards Eric, and Eric took that step backwards, breath heavily. “Wh-wh-who are you?! What are you doing?! Why are you in this house?!”_

_Wilford’s brow furrowed. Dr. Iplier shrunk back towards the Host. “…Eric? Are you –”_

_“_ MASTER! _” Eric sprinted back out of room, screaming for the Actor. “MASTER, there’s someone in the pet room!”_

 _Dr. Iplier’s eyes shot wide. “Oh no no no no – we gotta go, we gotta go_ now _, come on, Host, can you get up for me? Can you –”_

_He never finished his sentence. His head jerked sharply to the side, and he collapsed, dead, to the floor. The Actor lorded above him, adjusted his robe, eyes black as tar._

_The Host screamed._

The Host screamed.

He was moving again for the first time in _months_ , kicking at the bars of his cage. He accidentally ripped out his IV and the transfusion, blood spraying everywhere as he _screamed_. Dr. Iplier was going to die, no, was he dead? The Host couldn’t tell, realities so blurred together, he couldn’t tell what had happened and what hasn’t. Did he just live through Dr. Iplier’s death? Was he lying limp on the ground right now? The Host couldn’t _See_ , he was grieving, crying bandages having dissolved ages ago in the ever present pool of blood.

“Hey! Host, shhh, calm down, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

Someone was pulling away the padded helmet, carding their fingers through his hair, and the Host sobbed, leaning desperately into the touch. His mind was playing tricks on him, he _knew_ it was, Dr. Iplier had just _died_ , this wasn’t him, the was the Actor, this was a vision, another reality, not _his_ , Dr. Iplier, _Dr. Iplier…_

“ _Wilford!_ Get this door open!”

“On it, doc!”

The Host whimpered, struggling a bit as he was pulled out of the cage, and into Dr. Iplier’s lap. He didn’t care if this was the Actor now or not, he’d _missed_ his beloved doctor, he didn’t want him to be dead, and he buried his face in Dr. Iplier’s stomach, sobbing into his shirt. Black as well as red stained every inch of him, Dr. Iplier muttering soothing words as he unbound the Host’s wrists, pulling off the mittens and letting the Host’s hands free. “Shhh, you’re okay now, you’re okay…”

The Host shook his head, pointing in the vague direction of the door.

“ _Hey!_ ”

And just like that, Wilford was poofing to the door, slamming a hand over Eric’s mouth and dragging him inside. Eric made a terrified sound, struggling against Wilford, but Wilford just pet his hair, soothing him as pink mist swarmed off his hands. Eric unavoidably breathed it in, and before long, he was asleep, slumped against Ed’s cage.

Dr. Iplier shuddered, skin crawling with the uncomfortable realization they’d almost been _caught_. He and Wilford had been watching for months. They knew how broken Eric was by now. They knew how the Actor had been treating him and Dark – the only two who hadn’t been shoved in cages in this room. Dr. Iplier picked at the straps to the Host’s muzzle, having a difficult time as congealed blood acted effectively like glue. But, he got it eventually, gently pulling it away. “There we g –”

The Host immediately threw up.

 _Black_ spewed from his mouth in a never-ending flow, ink pouring out like a fountain with each violent retch, each painful convulsion of his chest. It ran in rivulets across the floor, but…the rivulets took odd patterns, like…words…sentences…

The Host’s build-up of narrations were _pouring_ out of him, not giving him a chance to breathe, it was _violent_ , and _loud_ , and the Host was gagging as ink hit the back of his throat _over and over and over_ –

It took ten minutes for the flow to begin to slow. Another ten for it to taper off completely. Wilford had freed the other egos by then, and was off to sneak through the manor to grab Dark. Ink had overtaken the blood that covered the floor.

The Host laughed. He _laughed_ , pressing his shaking hands to his temples, marvelling the absence of _pressure_ in his _skull_. He could think, he could _talk_ –

And he _talked_.

“Dr. Iplier!” His words were slurred, raspy, hoarse from disuse and ink. “Dr. Iplier Dr. Ipler Dr. Iplier is alive, he’s alive, you’re alive!” He laughed again, first person mixing into his speech, and Dr. Iplier flinched back. “You’re alive! The Host thought he was dead – is Dr. Iplier dead? Perhaps this is the one with the ghosts – no, wings!” He twists to press at his back, and frowned. “No wings, a shame, the Host liked having wings. The Host is happier Dr. Iplier isn’t dead though, that was sad, the Host grieved for – how long was it? But you’re alive! Maybe the Host didn’t grieve at all and that was all in my head.”

Silence. Dr. Iplier laid a hand on his shoulder. “Host, are you…alright?”

The Host’s grin grew wider. “The Host can’t tell anymore! Which reality’s which, if he’s okay or not. Did you know there’s a reality where the Host is a god? Who would want to worship me, I’m a piece of shit!” He chuckled, full of mirth despite what he’d said. “The Host tried to kill himself. He can’t remember how many times. Did he even try in this reality? He can’t remember how many times he succeeded. Oh, those were sad days. The Host can’t remember if he cried. But Dr. Iplier’s alive! He deserves to be alive.”

Another hand. King maybe? It wasn’t Dr. Iplier. His voice was raspy, too. “Host –”

“ _Don’t touch the Host!_ ” He screeched at the top of his lungs, scrambling to his feet, stumbling back through the ink. He gripped his skull harder. “No no no, this isn’t right, King’s dead! Bim – no, the Author –” He gasped. “The Author! Am I the Author? No, I’m the Host! Or am I? I can’t quite tell. Things bleed after so long. Am I bleeding? Dr. Iplier, am I bleeding?!”

He rushed back forward, hauling Dr. Iplier to his feet, not noticing him stumbling back. “I-I-I um, I-I don’t know –”

“Oh that’s alright!” The Host spun away, pacing, words flowing faster and faster. “ _The Host’s paced through the inky pool, blood and magic and so many different worlds blending toge_ – ah there you are! Narrations! The Host needed you before! You went _missing!_ It’s hard stumbling through a library with a concussion – no, wait, that didn’t happen, did it?”

There was a splash as someone took a step. “Host, please –”

“ _Stop! Saying! My name!_ ” The Host stumbled back, breathing heavily. Hands sliding up to pull at his hair. “the Host is _fine!_ He’s – he’s… _he’s_ …fine…”

The Host collapsed, falling forward into the ink, and passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU _hurts_ , but you bet your ass there's more. I think there's like 12 of them, but be warned: some of them are _very_ triggering, I know that, and this AU isn't for everyone
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


End file.
